


Showdown in Aisle 5

by FreshBrains



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, Shopping, Sickfic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I live a block away.  My sister and my best friend are both sick and we’re going to watch movies and commiserate.  You’re welcome to join us.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showdown in Aisle 5

**Author's Note:**

> For the AU prompt from [tea-and-outer-space](http://tea-and-outer-space.tumblr.com/post/99399784683/aus) on Tumblr: _we’re both sick and we both grabbed for the last can of soup at the store au_. Happy Berica Week!

Boyd had a rough day.  He wouldn’t go so far as to say his day was a massive shit-fest, but he definitely thought it as he locked up the utility garage at the ice rink for the day, the keys shaking in his hands.

“You don’t look so hot,” said the custodian in the hallway, pushing his mop and bucket towards the closed concession stand.

“I don’t _feel_ so hot,” Boyd murmured, digging into his coat pocket for the thousandth crumpled tissue of the day.  “The boss gave me tomorrow morning off, so I’ll see you in the afternoon.” He tugged his thick wool hat over his ears (and silently thanked Alicia, the knitting machine) before venturing out into the chill.

His cell buzzed in his pocket and he sneezed heartily into a tissue before answering.  “Yeah, I’m on my way home.  Want me to get something for dinner?”

A stuffy, forlorn _“Ugh_ ,” was all that came through the other line.

Boyd sighed.  “You caught it too?”

_“I feel like I got run over by your Zamboni,”_ Alicia sniffled, and paused to blow her nose noisily.  “ _You gave me this disease, you jerk!”_

Boyd leaned against the bus stop shelter and rubbed his temples, his head pounding.  “It’s just a bug going around.  I’ll bring you something from the grocery store, what do you want?”

“ _Popsicles,”_ Alicia said weakly, putting on her adorable baby sister voice.  _“Cough drops, more tissues.  The new_ Cosmo _.  And chicken noodle soup._ ”

“Your wish, my command,” Boyd grumbled and hung up, rubbing his cold hands together.  His sinuses were clogged but he could still smell the downtown mixture of exhaust and trash through the haze of his cold.  It turned his stomach.  He’d been fighting off the bug for weeks—going to bed early, drinking gallons of orange juice, all that sort of stuff.  He hated missing work, especially since he and Alicia were trying to make it on their own after Alicia graduated high school and Boyd was taking a break before heading to the East Coast for college.

There was no seating left on the bus, so Boyd relied heavily on the handrail and leaned against a support pole, texting Isaac with one hand.

_Can u check on Alicia?  She’s sick…I’m on my way._

Isaac texted back almost right away.  _Sure…but I’m sick too._

_I’m bringing food.  Misery loves company._ Boyd knew they’d all fall asleep in a hoarse, phlegmy mess on the papasan chair in the living room and wake up feeling like death, but it was better than being alone.

By the time the bus groaned to a stop in front of the grocery store, Boyd was half-asleep standing up and dreaming of his bed and his warm flannel sheets.  He jerked awake and hurried down the stairs.

The grocery store was in the post-work rush, full of people in business suits and high heels, shopping baskets dangling from the crooks of their arms.  At least a quarter of the people in the store were coughing or sneezing into their coat sleeves.  He went to the magazines first and grabbed _Cosmo_ along with _Marie Claire_ and a One Direction quiz book, just to make Alicia roll her eyes (besides, they both already knew she was a Zayn girl).  The freezer aisle was next, sparsely populated, even though the ice cream cabinet was looking a little bare.  At least they still had Bomb Pops.  He wheeled back and grabbed a box of ice cream sandwiches for Isaac.

Once he made his way to the pharmacy section, he knew he was in for a show.  The shelves were being re-stocked by an alarmed employee in a red vest, boxes of Tylenol and NyQuil falling from his skinny arms and being scooped up by customers.  There were only two boxes of tissues left and Boyd snatched them up and tucked them under his arm before anyone could get any ideas.  They only had ginger cough drops left, but as he coughed hard enough to make his throat ache, he didn’t linger to find different ones.

The last thing on his list was soup—classic chicken noodle from a can.  Easy enough.

Much like the mid-winter medicine aisle, the soup shelves had seen better days.  Tomato was still stocked by nobody fed a cold with tomato soup; Boyd’s grandmother would shudder to think. 

“Come on, come on,” Boyd muttered, basket heavy in his hand.  He shoved aside dented cans of cream of mushroom, trying to find the last damn can of chicken noodle, when a hand in a pink fingerless glove slid past his and nabbed something just out of his reach.

“Too slow,” the offender said, then turned away to cough, her cloud of blond hair whipping around her face.  “Looks like this is the last one.” She turned back, grinning wickedly, even though her lips were chapped and she had the telltale dry skin of a cold beneath her nose. 

Even when sick as a dog Boyd knew a gorgeous girl when he saw one, and this girl was _gorgeous_ —tall even compared to him, big brown eyes, and a low-cut _Ms. Marvel_ tee shirt that Boyd tried hard to be a gentleman about.  He felt his face warm as he cleared his throat.  “Hey, uncool,” he said.  “My sister’s sick and I’m on errand duty.”

The girl rolled her eyes.  “Look at _me_ ,” she pouted.  She looked like she’d spent the day in bed in her grey sweats, suede slippers, and knit hat with pom-poms on the tassels that Boyd absolutely didn’t find adorable.  Her coat pockets bulged with tissues.  “I’m on an errand run for _numero uno_ and I’m _not_ giving this up.”  She shook the can tauntingly, a paper pharmacy bag in the same hand. 

Boyd couldn’t help but smile—she seemed like the sort of girl who would keep him on his toes, which was always the type he was most attracted to.  “Well, they’re out of Kleenex down the next aisle, so good luck with that.”

The girl’s triumphant grin dropped.  “Well-played,” she said, eyeing Boyd up and down.  An old woman nudged past them to get at the soup shelf and they shuffled to the other side of the aisle.  “Well, handsome, it looks like we’ve reached an impasse.”

Boyd chose to ignore the nickname, raising an eyebrow.  “We could split them fifty-fifty.”

The girl laughed, throat thick with phlegm.  “What, will we heat it up over a trash-can fire down the street?”

Boyd shook his head and thought on his feet.  “I live a block away.  My sister and my best friend are both sick and we’re going to watch movies and commiserate.  You’re welcome to join us.” He shifted his basket to his other arm, feeling silly—he usually wasn’t so bold.  Maybe he was getting a fever.

The girl raised an eyebrow, mirroring Boyd’s expression.  “You’d be okay with that?  Because I don’t really feel like taking the bus right now and I’d much rather walk a block and flop onto a couch.”

Boyd couldn’t help but laugh.  It was ridiculous, but he didn’t care.  “You buy the soup, I buy the tissues, and we’ll go be potatoes for the next twelve hours.”

“Deal,” the girl said, sticking out her hand.  She grimaced, pulling it back in.  “Sorry, I’m pretty much a biohazard right now.  I’m Erica, by the way.”

“Boyd,” Boyd responded, smiling at her.  “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

By the time they got back to Boyd’s apartment, Boyd knew he wouldn’t regret his fever-induced invitation to invite Erica into his life.


End file.
